


You Got the Wrong Girl

by f0rever15elf



Category: Narcos (TV)
Genre: F/M, Feelings, Fingering, Food mention, PIV Sex, Pedro Pascal - Freeform, Smut, Unprotected Sex, alcohol mention, oral (female receiving)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-01
Updated: 2021-03-01
Packaged: 2021-03-14 07:48:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,214
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29788731
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/f0rever15elf/pseuds/f0rever15elf
Summary: An incorrect arrest interduces you to the Casanova of Colombia, and from that day on, weird coincidental meetings have him on the forefront of your mind until you both act on the tension that has been building since day one.
Relationships: Javier Peña/Reader, Javier Peña/You
Comments: 6
Kudos: 51





	You Got the Wrong Girl

The sigh that leaves your lips is long and drawn out. How you managed to get yourself into this situation, you’ll never know. Sure, you’re no angel, but to get picked up by a DEA cop while walking out of the little pharmacy on the corner of your street? That’s a new one.

He had come out of nowhere, tall and lanky and very, very American with dirty blonde hair and some of the worst Spanish you’ve ever heard, screaming at you to put your hands above your head as he pointed his side arm at you. On reflex, you turned and ran. A stupid idea, and you know it, but adrenaline isn’t known for allowing people to make the best decisions. You didn’t make it far before you were tackled to the ground, hands yanked behind you and clamped in cuffs before you could even get out a decent protest.

Now, you find yourself cuffed to a metal table, sitting in one of the most uncomfortable chairs you’ve ever had the displeasure of sitting in, with an incandescent bulb buzzing over your head. They hadn’t even told you what they had brought you in for, the cop completely ignoring you on the drive over before abandoning you in this _freezing_ room to sit and stew for a while. You contemplate taking a nap to make the most of the inconvenience, but that consideration is quickly dashed when the door opens, tall, blonde, and lanky showing his face once more, a file in his hand that he drops down unceremoniously in front of you before taking a seat. He rests a fist on the table, lounging back in the chair as he stares you down. It’s quiet for a long time, you waiting on him to make the first more and hopefully clear things up.

“You were a bitch to track down, you know,” he finally breaks the silence, tapping his knuckles on the table before leaning forward. Your brow furrows and you still refuse to speak, willing him to divulge more information before you so much as say a word. “I assume you speak English. _Hablas ingles?_ ” You arch an eyebrow, but beyond that make no other note that you’ve understood. A silence falls again as he watches you before letting out a sigh, opening the folder to toss several photos at you of some girl going in and out of the pharmacy you had just been at, a package under her arm every time. “We know your game. Handoffs. You have nothing to hide anymore, because we know it all.” He leans forward, pointing to one of the pictures of the girl getting into a car. “Where do you take the stuff, huh? Where does Escobar have you posted?”

Escobar? This yeehaw yank thinks you’re working for _Escobar?_ You can’t help the bitter laugh that passes through your lips as you sit back as far as the handcuff will let you. “Escobar? You think I’d be dumb enough to get caught up with Pablo Escobar?” You scoff, shaking your head. “I may be broke, but I’m not that desperate, and I don’t have a death wish. Try again, _amigo_. You got the wrong girl.”

Evidently, that was _not_ what blondie wanted to hear, his gaze darkening as he stands up, leaning forward. “You’re gonna just lie to me when I have photos of you right in front of you?” He leans forward, getting in your face, and you’re quick to match his gaze, refusing to be intimidated.

“I told you, that’s not me. You got the wrong girl. And gave me a nasty cut on my chin too, by the way, that stings like a bitch, so thanks for that.” His eyes flash white hot at that as he reaches forward to grab the front of your shirt, yanking you up out of the chair. You can smell the whiskey on his breath and do little to hide your disgust at the smell.

“You listen here, if you don’t come clean with the evidence _right in front of you_ , you’re not gonna like what happens next.” You smirk, opening your mouth to reply when the door opens, drawing the attention of you both. “I got this, Javi,” the blonde snarls at the shorter, dark haired man who makes his way in.

“Sure you do. Take a walk Steve, you’re getting too hot.”

“I told you I’m fine.”

“I wasn’t asking,” he reiterates, staring the blonde – Steve – down. It’s a tense minute, the electricity between the two of them palpable before Steve lets go of your shirt, storming out of the interrogation room and slamming the door behind him. The light sways from the force vibrating the whole room. 

“He must be fun at parties,” you grumble, smoothing out your shirt and sitting again as your eyes lock on your new interrogator. His features are sharp, his skin a honey tan and eyes a warm chocolate brown. They’re kind eyes, you can tell, but they’ve seen far more than anyone should ever have to see. His mustache is nicely groomed and suits him, matching the brown hair on his head that curls oh so slightly behind his ears. He’s handsome, so very handsome. Under any other circumstance, you’d be asking him out for drinks, but given your current predicament, that seems like a poor decision.

“Sorry about him. He’s hot headed sometimes.” You shake your head, keeping your eyes locked on the newcomer. “I’m Agent Peña, DEA. Steve’s partner.” You lift your head just enough to acknowledge him, not offering any information of your own. A dark brow arches as he gathers the photos, pulling the file back from in front of you. “So, Marisol, you’ve gotten yourself into quite the predicament.”

“Who the fuck is Marisol?” Agent Peña glances up at you, exasperation in his gaze before he looks back to the file.

“Very funny. No point in denying who you are, we’ve been tracking you for a month now. You and your weekly runs for Escobar. Now, we can help you, _hermosa_ , if you help us. Where are you running the packages, and who are you running them to?” He closes the file, setting it down in front of him before reclining back, and taking out a cigarette.

“Let’s get a few things straight, Javi.” You disregard his professional name, going for the name Steve used, and that earns you a glower from the agent across from you. “One, don’t call me _hermosa_. I’m not yours to call that, and flattery will get you nowhere. Two, my name isn’t fucking Marisol. Three, I’m not desperate or stupid enough to get in bed with Escobar and his lackies. That’s how you end up dead, and I very much like being alive.” You shake your wrist, rattling the handcuff obnoxiously. “You got the wrong fucking girl. I’m not the girl in those photos. She looks like me, sure, but I’m not her.”

Peña stares at you for a long moment before opening the file, pulling out the clearest photo they have, holding it up to your face to compare. “You got an alibi for these days then?”

“You assume I know when you took those pictures. Nine times out of ten, I’m working at the bar. I pull double shifts, that’s where you can usually find me.”

“And when you aren’t working?”

“I’m at home, sleeping or eating. Exciting life I lead.”

“Can anyone vouch for you?”

“My boss.” He stares at you for another moment and you sigh, leaning forward as he sets the photo down. “Look, Javi. Do you think if I was in bed with Escobar, and you offered to help me like you are, that I’d turn you down? Do you think I’d say no to a way out when the only thing that working for Escobar gets you is dead? Think about it.” You sit back again, a scowl firm on your face. “I’m not your girl, and I’d like to go home. It’s my one day off, and spending it locked to a DEA interrogation desk is _not_ my idea of a good time, sorry to disappoint.”

Javi’s lips quirk up in a smirk at that and he sits back in the chair, sizing you up. “You’re something else. Fiery.”

“Not the worst thing I’ve ever been called.” You rattle the handcuff again. “So can I go? You’re wasting your time on me.”

He lets out a huff of a chuckle before knocking on the table and standing up, pulling out the keys for the cuffs. “I’ll walk you out.”

“Appreciate it,” you grumble, rubbing at your wrist when Javi frees it from the chaffing metal. With a nod, he opens the door, and you’re met with the scowling face of Steve. “Told you, wrong girl.” You toss him a grin, waiting on Javi to lead you out. “Hope you find her!” you toss back over your shoulder as Javi guides you away, a smirk on his own face.

You make it to the door, stopping the turn to face Javi, finally getting to look at him in a light other than the irritating incandescent of the building, and he’s even more handsome than you originally thought, all sharp angles and smooth planes, crinkles around his eyes. “I assume you can get to where you need to go from here on your own.”

You nod, crossing your arms as you stare up at him. “I hope y’all don’t make a habit of tackling girls in the middle of the street.”

“In his defense, you ran.”

“In my defense, he was pointing a gun at me and never said he was DEA.” Javi arches an eyebrow at that, humming softly in acknowledgment.

“I’ll make a note of that. Now get, I’ll see you ‘round, _hermosa_.” He smirks as he turns away and you scoff.

“I hope not, Javi.” With that, you step outside, walking away from the most frustrating day you’ve had in ages.

Two weeks pass, and the interrogation slips from your mind as you drown yourself in work. The bar is a relatively new one, just starting to gain traction, and the nights are starting to grow busier. Not that you mind. Busier nights mean more tips, and who are you to say no to more money?

Tonight is one of those busier nights, most of the tables filled, the only open spots left along the bar where you work as the bar back. You’re wiping down the counter from where a pair of particularly messy patrons had just finished tequila shots, splashes of tequila left all over the counter, when a familiar voice calls for your attention, asking for a whiskey, neat, and a beer. Glancing up, sure enough, Agents Peña and Steve sit there, conversing with one another. Of all the people who could walk into your bar, it had to be these two.

You quickly pop the cap of the beer bottle, setting it down in front of the two along with a whiskey glass, filling it appropriately. “Fancy meeting you two here,” you drawl, setting the whiskey bottle back in its place. “Planning on tackling me again, Steve?”

“Jesus Christ,” the blonde groans, dipping from his beer.

“This is where you work?” Javi asks before taking a sip of his whiskey.

“No I’m just behind the bar for fun.” You roll your eyes. “Yes, this is where I work. I work double shifts ‘cause we don’t have enough employees. Boss is here if you need corroboration.” You shake your head, popping three more bottles for a patron, handing them off.

“We got her,” Javi informs you with a grin, living for how uncomfortable his partner looks at the moment, trying to draw it out as long as possible.

“The right girl this time?” you grin, tucking your rag into your apron.

“Yeah, the right girl this time. One step closer to the end goal.” He holds his glass up in a cheers motion before taking another drink.

“Sounds like a celebration is in order. A round on me tonight boys. Enjoy your drinks.” You flash Javi a wink before returning to work, leaving to the two to their own devices.

That night, there’s a large tip waiting for you where Javi once sat, and you can’t help the grin that curls your lips as you tuck it into your pocket. Maybe he isn’t so bad. 

They don’t come back, and honestly, you’re kind of disappointed with each passing night. Javi intrigues you. There’s more to him than he lets on, and you’ve never been one to shy away from intrigue. But with each passing day, you slowly begin to accept that maybe the two won’t be coming back. Steve clearly doesn’t care for you, afterall. 

Today is your day off, the first in a week and a half, and you’re so grateful. Groceries are running low, and you’re in need of some more shampoo, so a trip to the _mercado_ is in order. You put together a relatively short list before heading out, enjoying one of the rare cooler days that occasionally graces Colombia along your walk.

As the bell chimes above your head, you offer a kind greeting to the cashier. He’s an older man with a kind smile who has a habit of slipping you a little something sweet every time you come to do your shopping. He flashes you his kind smile as you make your way to the back of the store, checking off the items on your list as you go.

Patrons come and go, the chime over the door tinkling as it opens and closes. You pay it no mind, focusing on your list. That is, until a low, rich voice calls for you. When you look up, you’re greeted by none other than Agent Peña himself, that same subtle smirk on his face. “You know, if you keep showing up where I am, I’m gonna start thinking you still suspect me of something, Agent.”

He chuckles, reaching past you to grab a bar of soap. You catch a whiff of his cologne mixed with the smell of those cigarettes he smokes. A pleasant smell, really. “How do I know you’re not the one tailing me, _hermossa_? And call me Javi.”

“I thought I told you not to call me that.” There’s a playful air in your voice as you glance up at him.

“Well, you haven’t exactly given me a name to call you by. Can’t be blaming me for your unwillingness to divulge information, now can you?”

You scoff as you step past him, heading down the aisle towards the cash register. “I don’t make it a habit to give up too much to cops.” You flash him a wink and a smile as you set your basket in front of the cashier, thanking him before handing over the cash.

“Breaking my heart, baby. Three meetings and not even a name from you?” He leans himself against the counter, smirk still firmly in place.

“Well that’s a damn shame,” you jab back, returning his smirk before sliding a piece of paper over to the cashier. “Hope you can find someone to fix your heart for you, Javi.” You flash in one more wink before taking your bags, striding confidently from the building, all while Javi’s eyes are locked on you.

“A firecracker, she is,” the cashier quips, grinning at the high and dry DEA agent.

“That’s for damn sure.” Javi slides the soap across to let the cashier ring it up, passing his cash along with it.

“I think she likes you, though.” He bags the soap, handing it back to Javi after casually slipping a piece of paper into the bag as well. Javier’s brow furrows at that as he takes the bag before taking it and heading out to make his way home, all the while thoughts of you swirling through his mind.

It isn’t until he makes it home, going to put the soap up when he spies the little slip of paper. On the back of it, in elegant scrawl, is a name. Your name. And it’s the most beautiful name he’s ever heard. He lets out a quick, breathy chuckle before tucking the slip of paper back into his wallet. You just get more and more interesting with each of these encounters.

The next few days are hell, for both you and Javi. For you, work is ballistic. The beer order never came, so you’re short, and the vendor who normally delivers your veggies has been MIA for days. You’ve been pulling double shifts _and_ running to the mercado to get what you need for the bar to stay afloat, and at this point, you’re exhausted. Not to mention a particularly handsy customer has been frequenting the bar on your shifts, making it known just how much he enjoys your backside. You’ve come close to decking him a few times, but always reel yourself back in before you can manage to do something that would jeopardize your employment.

What gets you through it is the thought of the handsome DEA agent you seem to keep crossing paths with. If you keep this job, there’s the potential of him wandering back into your establishment for that whiskey, neat, that he enjoys so much. You wouldn’t object to it, having him sitting at your bar chatting with you as you wipe the surface down, keeping things in order. You think you’d rather like it, in fact, and lament the fact that it hasn’t happened yet. Perhaps tomorrow. Tomorrow is always another day.

As for the grumpy DEA agent, it seems to just be one beat down after another. A false lead and a wild goose chase that had him leaping from rooftop to rooftop and dropping from balconies just a little too high. He’s sore and tired and ready for a God damn break. But there is no such thing as rest for the wicked, and the day after he’s getting his ass chewed for following bad intel. Nevermind that that one currently chewing him out thought the intel was good too. Hypocrites, the lot of them.

When he makes it home, he tosses his keys in the dish by the door before hanging up his leather jacket, grabbing the whiskey bottle, and collapsing on the couch with a groan. His body is screaming at him to just close his eyes and slip away for a while. With a sigh, he takes a swig straight from the bottle, closing his eyes at the burn and wishing he had something better quality than this. Something that came with better company than the four walls of his apartment. Something like… the whiskey, neat, that he enjoys so much. He needs to visit you at the bar again. It’s been too long.

But that can wait. For now, Javier Peña drifts off into a much needed sleep.

Today is laundry day. The bane of your existence, and your least enjoyed chore, because it entails you leaving the house to sit in a stuffy, hot laundromat for at least two hours while you wait on your clothes to be finished. And today isn’t helped by the fact that it is positively _sweltering_ outside. You grumble quietly to yourself as you load up your car, a thing rarely used, to make the quick drive. One of these days you’re moving into a place with its own washer and dryer so you don’t need to deal with this anymore.

With your scowl firmly in place, you make your way inside, separating out the lights and darks to start two loads, hopping up on top of the washer to read when you’re done. You’re several chapters into your newest novel when the sound of your name in a voice that grows ever more familiar breaks your concentration. Glancing up, you find none other than Agent Peña smirking at you as he sets his own basket in front of the washer.

“Of all the places to run into you, here?” You dogear the page, setting the book down to lean back on your hands, watching him as he works. He separates out the lights and darks too, something you thought a man like Javi might not be inclined to do. “You gotta be tailing me at this point, Peña”

“You ever just gonna call me Javi, _querida?_ ” You ignore the way your stomach flips at the endearment, instead pinching your brow in faux thought.

“Maybe, if you give me reason to.” The grin on your face only means one thing, and _damn_ does Javi want to give in, especially after the shit week he’s had.

“That a request?” He leans against the washer after starting it, playing suave as he smirks at you.

“Think of it what you will,” you retort, slipping off the washers when they buzz to transfer the clothes to the dryer.

“Still not in the habit of relinquishing information, eh _querida?”_

You flash him a wink at that, feeding in your coins to the dryer and pressing start before hopping back up on the washing machine next to him. “Caught me. I’m not in the habit of incriminating myself.”

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you’ve had your own troubles with the law before.” He leans slightly towards you, something you’re not even sure he’s aware he does as he grins at you. You make a motion of zipping your lips and throwing away the key as you smirk back at him, kicking your feet childishly.

“Uh-uh. Not gonna say a word.”

“Oh, I think I can get you to say more than just a word, _hermosa_.” He’s crowding closer to you now, and it suddenly feels even harder to breathe in the already stuffy laundromat. He smells like whiskey and cigarettes and teak wood and it’s intoxicating.

“Is that a challenge?” Your voice wavers more than you would like, and he knows he has you. You can tell by the glint in his eyes that that was just the reaction he was looking for.

“Do you want it to be?” Smooth and steady and confident and _dammit_ why is this happening in the _middle of a laundromat?!_

You lift your head, trying to play it cool as you smile at him, hopping off the dryer. His gaze follows you, eyebrow quirked upwards in question. “Buy me dinner first.” You flash him a wink before snagging your book and heading to the bathroom at the back, Javier’s eyes on you the whole way. He puts his hands on his hips, cocking them to one side as he watches you go before shaking his head. He needs to get to know you more. Needs to figure out everything that makes you tick. Needs to know what the sound of your laugh is like, what the sounds of your moans and whimpers and whines are like. He groans as his roaming thoughts cause an uncomfortable situation in his pants and he subtly adjusts himself before heading to the bathrooms himself.

When you make your way back out, the handsome DEA agent is nowhere to be seen, and you’re honestly disappointed. You had hoped to throw him one more flirtatious glance before taking your clothes and leaving before not seeing him for another who knows how long. Rather glum now, you pull your clothes from the dryer, tossing them in your hamper unceremoniously before making your way to your car and heading home.

Javi comes from the bathroom after taking care of his little problem, lips turning down when he sees the dryers you had been using standing empty. He is going to need to get back to the bar sometime this week and see if you’ll make good on your own words. For now, he’d have to settle with his own imagination.

Days pass. Long, work filled days for both you and Javi. Little do either of you realize just how much the other floats on your minds. It’s been a long time since Javi dreamed of a woman the way he dreams of you, and it’s beginning to stress him out to the point where he’s almost constantly sporting a semi. You, by the same turn, have been so distracted at work that your boss has mentioned you take a few days off, thinking you’re getting sick. You don’t have the heart to tell him that it’s just a desire to have Javi make good on his insinuations that has your head in the clouds, so at the end of your shift, you accept the days off before heading home.

It’s a quiet night, the air thick and still, but it’s peaceful all the same as you walk home. The bar isn’t far from your little apartment, so on the days the weather promises to hold out, you typically walk. Tonight, you almost wish you had driven, your desire to get home and take care of the tension in your body very nearly overwhelming.

Climbing the stairs, you’re already digging for your keys, oblivious to your surroundings. That is, until you hear your name, this time the word laced with thick confusion. Your brow furrows as you slowly look up to see Javi, partway through a threshold two doors down as if he’s getting ready to leave. He looks good. Really good. But then again, you’ve always had a thing for leather jackets.

“Javi?” you question, your keys hovering in front of the lock. “What are you doing here?”

“I could ask you the same thing, _hermosa_.” He pulls the door shut behind him, locking up before walking towards you.

“I _live_ here. What’s your excuse?” You arch an eyebrow at the man now standing right in front of you. It’s often you’ve walked past that door to hear the sounds of pleasure coming from the other side. Whoever lives there really gets around. Not that you can blame them, as there isn’t much else to do in this town.

He blinks, thrown off at your reply as he stuffs his hands in the pockets of his jeans. “I live here, too.”

Your eyes widen at that, mouth opening slightly. “How long?”

“Six months.”

“How have you lived here six months and I’ve _never_ seen you until the day you interrogated me?” Your eyes narrow, remembering he’s a cop, your lack of trust outweighing your libido.

“Don’t forget you and I work odd hours, _querida.”_ His voice is low as he crowds you, head slightly tilted as he sizes you up. “I was coming to see you at the bar.”

Your heart stutters in your chest, heat flooding your cheeks. “Well, you just missed me. My shift ended half an hour ago. You’re a little late.” You lean back against the door, smirking up at him devilishly.

“Actually, it looks like I’m right on time.” He crowds you much in the same way he did at the laundromat, and that same intoxicating smell wafts around you. His head tilts as his eyes roam over your face, taking in every detail of you.

“On time for what, Agent?” Your voice is barely above a whisper, eyes locking on his lips. They’re full and look so soft, with a little crease in the middle and all you can think about is how they would feel slanted across your own.

“To make good on my word,” he murmurs, leaning in until you can feel his own breath washing over your lips. He pauses, waiting on your signal which you readily give, reaching up to grab the back of his neck to pull his lips down to meet yours. His hands fall on your hips as he presses himself against you, pressing you into the door. And, _oh._ Kissing him tastes like whiskey cigarettes and it’s absolutely addicting. It’s passionate and loving and his lips are so soft, his mustache tickling your lip deliciously and you wonder for a moment how it would feel in other places.

When he pulls away, your breathing is heavier, and there’s a shine in his lust blown eyes that tells you he would take you then and there if you let him. You part your lips to invite him in, hand reaching up to rest on his chest, just as the pager on his hip goes off. His eyes slip closed, his lips tugging down into a fierce scowl as he steps back, looking to the pager with such a raging fire in his eyes that for a moment you wonder if he would rather just throw the damn thing across off the balcony.

“Work?” you murmur, your hand falling back to your side. He sighs and nods, clipping the pager back onto his belt loop.

“No rest for the wicked.” His voice is strained and irritated, and you can tell he wants nothing more than to be right here, enjoying this. But duty calls, and Javier Peña is nothing if not a man of duty. “I have to go, _hermosa_. But now that I know you’re just two doors down….” He doesn’t finish the comment. He doesn’t need to, seeing your lips curl up in a smirk.

“I guess I’ll be seeing more of you, Javi. Now go, before your partner tries to have me arrested for obstruction of justice or something like that.” Javi snickers before turning away, bidding you goodnight as he heads down the stairs. You watch him go this time, smiling at the cute little butt he sports. It isn’t until he’s out of sight that you turn and head into your own apartment, wondering just when you will next see Javier Peña.

It’s far sooner than expected, given your track record with the agent. Two days after the heated kiss against your door, you’ve returned to work, much to your boss’ upset. You need to be here, though, to keep your mind from wandering too far; two doors down to be specific. The bell above the door chimes, and the familiar figure takes up a seat at your bar not too far out from closing time. You flash him a smile, already pulling out a glass for him. He smirks as you slide it across the bar to him, raising it in a silent toast before taking a sip.

“What brings you into my humble little establishment, eh?” The grin never falters as you pick up a glass to wipe it down.

“The whiskey and the company,” he responds, leaning against the bar as he watches you work. “The bar back caught my eye.”

“Did she now?” You turn away, setting the glass back in its rightful place before leaning against the counter yourself. He hums, taking a sip of this drink again as your eyes dart to the clock on the wall. “You know, you only have a few minutes before I need to start closing down.”

“Gonna kick me out, _hermosa?”_ He’s smirking that textbook smirk at you, swirling the amber liquid in his glass.

“I have a feeling you already know I won’t.” You step around the bar, going to clear the last few tables that just emptied, collecting your tips before going to lock the door and turn the sign to closed. “But I’m gonna put you to work, so finish your drink.” His brow arches at that, but he does as he’s told, knocking back the rest of his drink before setting the glass down and standing up. As he does, you toss him a rag, instructing him to go wipe down the tables while you finish cleaning down the bar, taking the dirty glasses to the back. When you come back, he’s finished the tables and grabbed the broom, starting to sweep, and for a moment, your heart swells at his willingness to work without being told.

Working together, it doesn’t take the two of you long to finish cleaning and preparing for tomorrow. “Did you walk here?” he questions as you lock the front door, slipping the keys into your pocket.

“I walk here most nights, yeah.” You cross your arms over your chest as you walk, the pace leisurely.

“Alone?” His brow furrows as he looks down at you, the concern evident in his eyes. If there’s anyone who knows the dangers of these streets, it’s Javi, and the idea of you out here alone so late at night causes his stomach to knot unpleasantly.

“Usually. It’s not that far.” You shrug, glancing up at him. The moonlight accentuates the sharpness of his features, and for a moment, your breath hitches.

“It’s dangerous to do that, _querida_.”

“Is that concern I hear in your voice, Agent Peña?” You flash him a grin and he huffs indignantly as you meander towards your apartments.

“Don’t get ahead of yourself.” There’s a smile in his voice that you pick up on, but you don’t mention as the rest of the walk continues on in amicable silence. He walks you all the way to your door, standing in front of you with his hands stuffed in his pockets as you unlock it before turning to smile at him. He looks like a fish out of water, fidgeting where he stands as he glances past you into your apartment.

“Would you like to come in, Javi?” you offer, a kind smile on your face. “I have whiskey, if you’re still wanting some more, that is.”

He shuffles at the offer, the look on his face pensive. “I thought you weren’t in the habit of divulging too much information to cops.” There’s a small smirk on his lips, almost rueful, in an attempt to cover whatever discomfort he may be feeling.

“Well, this cop has helped me out on two occasions now, so I think I can make an exception to my little rule.” Your smile turns playful as you step back from the threshold to let him in. “Plus, the company isn’t too bad either.” You hear him breathe out a chuckle before coming in, quietly shutting the door behind himself as you make your way to the kitchen for glasses. “Make yourself at home. You know where the bathroom is, if you need it.”

“I’m fine, thanks.” You glance up to find Javi looking around your living room. You live modestly, but it’s cozy at least, with warm lights and blankets thrown over the back of the couch, though you rarely have use for them. There are a few books on your shelf that he’s currently perusing, jumping a bit when you appear at his side to hand him his glass. “You speak Spanish?” he questions, pointing out your book on Pablo Neruda poetry.

“Hard to live in this country and not speak the language,” you counter, shrugging before sitting down. “By the way, Steve needs to work on his. When he arrested me, that was probably the worst Spanish I had ever heard. He’ll get laughed out of any serious interrogation, unless he starts brandishing that pistol of his like he did at me.” You take a sip of your drink as Javi comes to join you back on the couch, groaning as he sits.

“Yeah, we’re trying.” He takes a sip of his own drink, grimacing at the burn.

“I never said it was good whiskey,” you chuckle. “But it gets the job done after a long day.”

“It’s fine, I’ve had worse.”

“Thanks… I think.” He tosses you a smile at that. It’s lopsided and shows off a dimple on the right side that makes your heart flip in your chest. You can feel your face heating up, and to keep yourself from staring, you clear your throat, glancing away. “So… how’s work?”

“Shitty, and I’d rather not talk about it.”

“Ooooookaaaayyy.” You pull your legs up under you, appraising the man sprawled on the corner of your couch. He’s handsome, truly, with honey gold skin and sharp features. His prominent, aquiline nose suits him perfectly, and his eyes hold so much that you desperately wish to dive into.

“What?” he finally asks, looking up at you with a smirk as he swirls the amber liquid around in his glass. “You’re staring.”

“Can’t help it.” You shrug, smiling at his eyebrow that arches in confusion. “A handsome guy sits on my couch, drinking my whiskey, and you expect me not to stare?”

“Flattery will get you nowhere, _hermosa._ ” He leans forward, setting his glass down on your coffee table with that fire igniting in his eyes.

“Who says I’m wanting to go anywhere, Agent?” You grin over the rim of your glass as he continues to move towards you until his leg is pressed against your knees from where you’re curled on the couch. “I’m already right where I want to be.”

“And where is that, exactly?” His voice has dropped, eyes raking over your face, absorbing every detail.

“Under the gaze of the most intriguing, handsome man I think I have ever met,” you murmur, lowering your glass as he leans in, the smell of whiskey strong on his breath. He hums at your reply, nose brushing against your own. “Waiting for him to just kiss me already,” you breathe out just loud enough for him to hear it, and then his lips are on yours. He kisses you like it’s his last day on Earth, and you refuse to entertain the fact that it very well might be, given his line of work.

With that singular kiss, the pressure and overwhelming intensity he brings with it, the stress of the past two weeks just melts away. His hand finds your glass while never once breaking the kiss, moving it to the coffee table next to his own before coming back to cup your face. His fingers rest on the base of your skull behind your ear, pressing there almost possessively. You whimper into the kiss when his other hand moves to rest on your thigh, thumb stroking against the fabric of your pants. At the sound, he breaks the kiss, leaning back just enough to look you in the eyes. The passion and desire you see in them takes your breath away.

“You have been on my mind since the day I walked you to the door of the Embassy, _querida_. You just won’t go away.” The sultry rasp in his voice has you weak, very nearly trembling in his grasp.

“That makes two of us then.” Your hands make their way to his shirt, fisting the pale yellow fabric to pull him closer to you. “And you kept showing up again and again and _again_. No matter where I was, you were there too.” He brings his forehead to rest it against your own, eyes slipping closed. “Two months. It’s been almost two months of you driving me _crazy_ and all this time you’ve lived two doors down from me.” He groans as you begin popping the buttons of his shirt open, revealing the broad chest you’ve dreamed about to you.

“ _Cariño_ ,” he murmurs, the hand on your thigh inching higher and higher, closer to where you’re desperate for him. “Tell me what you want.”

You don’t hesitate, you don’t stop to think. You don’t need to. You know exactly what it is that you need to quench the raging fire inside of you.

“ _You._ ”

That’s all it takes. You can almost hear it, the string of Javi’s self control snapping like a violin string. He surges forward, pressing you back into the couch as his lips find yours again. There’s a desperation in the kiss, and you know he wants – no – _needs_ this just as much as you do.

A moan ghosts past your lips as he runs his tongue along them, entreating you to let him in. And you do, moving your arms up to wrap around him as his tongue dances with your own, groaning at the taste of whiskey left on your breath. Your fingers dance their way to the hair at the nape of his neck, threading into the soft curls there to tug oh so gently.

Eventually, his mouth begins to migrate, kissing and nipping along your jaw, turning your head to grant him more access to your own feverish skin. He feels like heaven pressed against you, pain mixed with pleasure as he nips hard enough to leave a mark before soothing the spot with his lips and tongue and you’re desperate for more. Desperate to feel those sinful lips all over your body.

“Ja-Javi,” you whimper, very nearly whining when he pulls back to look at you, concern evident in his eyes. “Bed.” His lips quirk up and he nods, standing and holding out a hand to you to pull you up and against him. He’s quick to find your lips again, walking you backwards to the bedroom as his hands roam down along your sides, seeking out the hem of your shirt. His calloused fingers slip under the loose fitting fabric, running along the soft skin of your stomach as he lets out a groan. You can’t think of a time you’ve ever wanted someone as badly as you want Javier.

He continues to walk backwards until the backs of his legs hit the bed, the contact startling him enough to break the kiss for just a moment. You take advantage of it, throwing him off balance just enough to shove him back on the bed. He props himself up on his elbows, looking up at you with wide, lust blown eyes as you take a step back from him, grabbing at the hem of your shirt to slowly raise it over your head before discarding it on the floor. He takes his bottom lip between his teeth, watching with intense interest as you sway your hips, slowly slipping off your pants.

“Baby, you’re gonna kill me at this rate if you don’t get over here right now and let me touch you.”

“After such a long wait, I think I deserve a little room to tease you,” you counter as you finish slipping off your pants. At that he growls, sitting up and reaching out for you, hands finding purchase on your hips as he pulls you against him. You make no move to resist, instead straddling his hips as you take your seat on his lap. He’s already rock hard under his jeans, and you moan into his heady kiss as you grind down against him, desperate for _some_ kind of friction after so long going without. His fingers dig into your hips, stilling your movements as he breaks the kiss, looking up at you through impossibly long eyelashes.

“Are you sure about this?” His voice is drawn tight, the last remnant of his control, and your heart melts at his concern. Most other men you’ve brought home would have had you on your back already, but not Javi. No, there’s a tenderness here that you can see even through all his desperation. A need to protect and care for. And it makes you want him all the more.

“I’ve never been more certain of anything in my life.” You tug sharply at his shirt, satisfied when the last remaining buttons pop clean off, earning a grumble from the man beneath you. “I’ll fix it for you, now shut up and kiss me.” He doesn’t need to be told twice, that hand coming up to cup the back of your neck again, possessive and protective as his lips find yours.

Slowly, he leans back until he’s flat on the bed, you hovering over him as you drink in his kiss, memorizing the taste and feel of him as his hands slide down your back to grip at your ass, kneading the soft flesh there. You grind your hips down against him, and he hisses at the contact, bucking back up against you in turn.

“Pants,” you mumble against his lips before taking the bottom lip between your teeth, tugging on it lightly. “Off.”

He lets out a low sound, carefully rolling to both over to shuck off the restricting jeans. You look like an angel spread out on the mattress for him, dressed in only your underwear with a pleasure doped smile on your face. It’s better than he could have ever dreamed.

Your eyes widen as you see he’s commando under his jeans, something you hadn’t been expecting, but not something you’ll ever find yourself complaining about. He smirks at your reaction, leaning back over you to stroke your face. “How do you want it, _cariño?_ ”

“If I’m not screaming by the end of this, I’ll be disappointed.”

“Fuck,” he breathes out, his hand sliding up your side to slip under the band of your bra. You shiver at the contact, his calloused fingers scratching deliciously at your skin as his hand slips underneath you, deftly unclipping the band. In a blink, the garment is discarded with the other forgotten articles on the floor of your bedroom, his mouth replacing them and wrenching a sensual moan from you at the feeling. Your hands find his hair again, tugging and earning a pleasured hum from him as his tongue laves over your nipple, teeth dragging against the peaks as he switches back and forth, his hand giving attention to the breast unattended by his mouth.

It doesn’t take long for the kisses to begin trailing south, his mustache tickling your skin in the most wonderful ways as he makes it to the hem of your panties. He takes them between his teeth, tugging them down your legs to discard them before his lips are back on you, kissing up your calf to your knee and up to your thigh. Just when you think he’s going to give you what you want, touch you where you most need him, he jumps to the other leg, kissing back down it. The whine you let out earns a chuckle from him as he sits up, coming to kiss your lips fiercely as his hand trails along your thigh.

“Dammit Javi, _please!_ ”

“What was it you said about being entitled to teasing just a few minutes ago?” Oh, the bastard. You’ll get him back for that one. You open your mouth to respond, but the only sound that makes it out is the sound of your wanton moan as his fingers slide lightly against your slit, stopping at the little bundle of nerves just above it. Your hips buck against his hand, seemingly of their own accord, and the smirk on Javi’s face is a victorious one. “This what you want, baby?” All you can do is moan, nodding your head frantically before your breath catches as he shuffles back, laying down between your legs. “Fuck…. Dreamed about this for weeks,” he mumbles before he’s attaching himself to you, licking and sucking at your clit like a man starved.

You keen out his name, slapping a hand across your mouth to muffle the sounds, trying desperately to be considerate of your neighbors, but Javi is having none of that. He reaches up, pulling your hand away from your mouth to lace his non-occupied hand with yours. You thrash your head back and forth as his talented tongue circles your clit before dipping lower, thrusting inside of you along with a single finger. He alternates between circling your clit and thrusting into you before his lips and tongue focus on your clit, easing a second finger inside of you. The sounds you make drive him wild, his cock aching against the mattress, but he refuses to seek out his own pleasure until you’ve found yours.

As your whines grow higher and higher pitched, he knows you’re getting close. And so, he curls his fingers, seeking out that specific spot inside of you that will have you seeing stars. When you very nearly shriek, curling upwards in surprise, he knows he’s found it. He squeezes your hand once to relax you before doubling down his efforts. His tongue swirls frantically around your clit as he rubs against that special spot, tearing moan after moan from you until, with a scream of his name, you clamp down around him, absolutely soaking his fingers as you arch up off the bed.

He works you through your high, gently stroking at you to wring every single drop of pleasure from you. It isn’t until the stimulation comes to be too much that you gently shove him away, trembling beneath him. He relents, licking his lips as he crawls back up your body, and you catch your own arousal shining on his mustache before he leans in to kiss you. You groan at the taste of yourself on his lips, pressing into the kiss as your arms wind around his neck, pulling him down against you. He weighs hot and heavy against your stomach and the only coherent thought in your head is of how _badly_ you need him inside of you. And so you break the kiss, panting against his lips as you beg for him.

The sound of you begging for him has Javi absolutely aching for you, his ears ringing as he tries to hold himself back from diving right in. No, he wants this to be good for you, as good as it possibly can be. “Condom?” he rasps, leaning in to nip at your lip, and you shake your head.

“Clean. Just pull out.” He groans and drops his head into the crux of your neck, trying desperately to calm himself down so he doesn’t explode the moment he feels you around him. Your nails find purchase on his shoulders as you wait for him, whining and needy and he hisses and the feeling of your nails dragging along the skin. A feeling he could most definitely get used to.

When he feels he’s calmed enough, he leans up, gripping his cock to slide it up and down between your folds. You buck your hips impatiently and he _finally_ gives you what you both have been aching for for weeks now. He’s slow, patient and considerate as he slides into you until his hips are flush against your own. It’s here that he stills, letting you adjust to the stretch, letting you get used to him. Your head falls back as your eyes slip closed, the feeling overwhelming of how well he fills you, how perfect he feels inside of you.

It only takes a moment for you to grow impatient once again, bucking your hips up against him as you whimper out his name, begging him to move. Javi gladly obliges, slowly pulling out before snapping his hips forward again. Your nails dig into his shoulders as with every thrust you let out a gasp or a moan, the air filled with your pretty little sounds and Javi knows he won’t last long. He grabs your leg, hooking it up over his hip and the change in angle drives you wild, shredding up against the spot inside you that has your eyes rolling back in your head.

“So…fucking…pretty,” he groans out between thrusts, his hand winding down to where your bodies meet, frantically rubbing circles at you clit. “Pretty sounds. Pretty face. Pretty girl.” He groans, pressing his forehead to yours as you begin to cry out his name, getting louder and louder as you feel your stomach drawing tight. “So pretty when you cum. Want you to cum. _Need_ you to cum.”

He snaps his hips against you over and over again, unrelenting and it feels like you’re flying, dancing right on that precipice of pleasure. “Javi,” you whine, needy and desperate, chasing your release. He grunts in reply, face falling back to your neck where his teeth dig into the sensitive flesh. That little bit of pain is all it takes, tipping you over the edge as your vision goes white. Your legs lock around his waist as your cum harder than you have in a very long time, his name a scream on your lips.

Javier very nearly explodes at the feeling of you absolutely soaking his cock, swearing against your neck as your walls flutter around him as he fucks you through your high. He’s almost there, so fucking close. When you whimper his name as you come down, he’s unraveling, slipping from you and gripping his cock, pumping himself only a few times before painting your stomach and chest with rope after rope of his cum. The moan on his lips is sinful when paired with your name and you’d do nearly anything to hear it again, you’re sure. He looks so beautiful, his neck muscles tight as his pleasure seizes his body. How can such a man be real?

As he comes down, he leans forward, catching your lips in a languid, passionate kiss, this one far less desperate than the one prefacing your little escapade. It’s sweet and tender and very nearly moves you to tears. How long has it been since someone kissed you like this? You honestly can’t remember.

When he breaks the kiss, the urge to reach out for him is overwhelming. “I’ll be right back,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to your forehead before getting out of bed and moving to the bathroom. You hear the water running before he makes his way back, gently cleaning you off with the warm cloth. “You did so well, _cariño.”_ His praise has you on cloud nine in the afterglow of your orgasm.

The hum from your lips is gentle as you reach out for him, urging him to come back to bed, and he obliges, slotting in beside you before pulling you against him. “Thank you,” you murmur against the skin of his neck, arms wrapping around him as your legs tangle with his own. The chuckle that rumbles in his chest warms you through as he nuzzles into your hair.

“I should be the one thanking you. For trusting me.”

You hum as his fingers trace a gentle path along your spine, sleep calling for you. “Will you stay?”

The sleepiness in your voice tugs at his heart strings. How could he deny you anything? His arms wrap around you a little tighter as he nods, pressing a sweet kiss to your forehead once more. “If that’s what you want me to do.” You nod into his chest, clinging to him like some overgrown koala as sleep finally takes you over.

As he lays there, you sleeping in his hold, Javier does his best to reconcile the feelings swirling around in his head and heart. He had thought it just a desperate drive to take you to bed, that a night spent with you would quell whatever feeling it had been that had you on his mind since the day he released you from the Embassy. But now, lying here beside you after the fact, that feeling still just as strong, he begins to wonder if perhaps he wants…a little something more. The thought terrifies him, because bad things happen to the people he cares about.

And he can’t let these bad things happen to you. 


End file.
